“‘Five weeks and two days!’ says your wife, sobbing.

“Mrs. Horner burst into a laugh; but there was a tear in my Lady’s eyes, for she knew what the poor thing was a-thinking of.

“‘Silence, woman!’ says she angrily to the great grenadier woman; and at this moment the child in the next room began crying.

“As soon as your wife heard the noise, she sprung from her chair and made a stop forward, and put both her hands to her breast and said, ’The child—­the child—­give it me!’ and then began to cry again.

“My Lady looked at her for a moment, and then ran into the next room and brought her the baby; and the baby clung to her as if he knew her:  and a pretty sight it was to see that dear woman with the child at her bosom.

“When my Lady saw it, what do you think she did?  After looking on it for a bit, she put her arms round your wife’s neck and kissed her.

“‘My dear,’ said she, ’I am sure you are as good as you are pretty, and you shall keep the child:  and I thank God for sending you to me!’

“These were her very words; and Dr. Bland, who was standing by, says, ‘It’s a second judgment of Solomon!’

“‘I suppose, my Lady, you don’t want me?’ says the big woman, with another curtsey.

“‘Not in the least!’ answers my Lady, haughtily, and the grenadier left the room:  and then I told all your story at full length, and Mrs. Blenkinsop kept me to tea, and I saw the beautiful room that Mrs. Titmarsh is to have next to Lady Tiptoff’s; and when my Lord came home, what does he do but insist upon coming back with me here in a hackney-coach, as he said he must apologise to you for keeping your wife away.”

I could not help, in my own mind, connecting this strange event which, in the midst of our sorrow, came to console us, and in our poverty to give us bread,—­I could not help connecting it with the diamond pin, and fancying that the disappearance of that ornament had somehow brought a different and a better sort of luck into my family.  And though some gents who read this, may call me a poor-spirited fellow for allowing my wife to go out to service, who was bred a lady and ought to have servants herself:  yet, for my part, I confess I did not feel one minute’s scruple or mortification on the subject.  If you love a person, is it not a pleasure to feel obliged to him?  And this, in consequence, I felt.  I was proud and happy at being able to think that my dear wife should be able to labour and earn bread for me, now misfortune had put it out of my power to support me and her.  And now, instead of making any reflections of my own upon prison discipline, I will recommend the reader to consult that admirable chapter in the Life of Mr. Pickwick in which the same theme is handled, and which shows how silly it is to deprive honest men of the means of labour just at the moment when they most want it.  What could I do?  There were one or two gents in the prison